


A Warm Body

by deedeeinfj



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:03:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4715387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeeinfj/pseuds/deedeeinfj
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Continuation of "Blood and Circuses." Jack comforts Phryne. Angsty fluff? Fluffy angst?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"I lost her, Jack. I lost her."

It breaks him, hearing her voice so small and unhappy, seeing her huddled into herself like the vulnerable girl she once was. He hangs his head for a moment. For the first time since she flounced her way into his drab life, the woman who always saves herself could actually use his help, and he feels ill-equipped to give it. Uncertain if she would welcome it.

He looks at her again. _Though she be but little, she is fierce._

"No," he says.

"No?" she repeats.

He pushes himself out of his chair and crouches in front of hers, bracing his hands on the polished wood arms. Phryne's eyes widen in surprise, but she doesn't flinch.

"No," he says again. "You didn't lose her. He _took_ her." She starts to shake her head, but he stops her. "You and I question people all the time. If we had brought in a little girl whose sister had been kidnapped, would you arrest her for losing her sister?" He raises one of his hands and touches her cheek. "No. You would comfort her. You would tell her it wasn't her fault. And you would be right." He swallows, momentarily overcome by the weight of her gaze on him. "I am the agent of the law here, and I stand by my decision to dismiss the charges."

He starts to drop his hand, but she catches it and holds it. "Will you be with me tonight, Jack?" she asks.

"I can't."

"Your wife," she says with quiet resignation, releasing her hold on him. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"No," he says hoarsely. "Not because of that." He stands quickly and moves away. He blinks and fills his lungs.

"We need never speak of it again. Just one night, Jack. I need someone."

"Comfort," he muses aloud. "A warm body for one night."

"Yes. Please."

"Phryne, I would do almost anything in my power to help you. And God knows I want to make love to you." He hears the raw emotion in his voice and takes another deep breath to steady himself. "But to be another warm body for one night... no. It would kill me."

If Phryne had wondered before tonight about the depth of his feelings, she could be in no doubt now. Perhaps it hadn't been wise to lay himself bare before her in such a way. Perhaps it had been inconsiderate to put his own anguish on display when he was meant to be comforting her. Perhaps... damn it all.

"I'll show myself out," he says.

"No!" she cries out, leaping up from her chair and going to him. "Jack, no. I shouldn't have... I mean, I have known..." She blows out a breath in frustration. "It was callous of me to ask. I wasn't trying to take advantage of your feelings. I wasn't thinking about our... I wasn't _thinking_ at all. I'm sorry."

He presses his lips into a line and nods. "You don't have to apologize. I know what it is to want that kind of comfort. And if I..." He shakes his head. He doesn't need to repeat himself. He has already told her all. In spite of himself, he smiles. "I dismiss those charges as well."

"You're going soft, Detective Inspector," she replies, returning his smile. It does him good to see her smiling again. "Thank you. For everything."

His brain lights on something, and he says it aloud before he has the chance to change his mind. "I could stay with you tonight - hold you, nothing more - if it would do you good."

"You always do me good, Jack Robinson," she says softly. "And I would like that very much."

They each have another drink, both quiet and thoughtful, and then he follows her upstairs. He shrugs off his jacket and waistcoat. They both toe off their shoes. And then he is in Phryne Fisher's bed, with Phryne Fisher in his arms, and his body feels too light to stay pulled to earth. Surely it can be only the weight of her lithe body holding him down.

"Jack?" she whispers.

"Hmmm."

"I didn't want a warm body. I wanted you."

"Wanted you," he repeats absently, hardly knowing what the words mean. Phryne's body is holding him to earth, and exhaustion is pulling him away from everything.

He sleeps.


	2. Chapter 2

Phryne opens her eyes slowly, squinting until they adjust to the sunlight flooding her room. She turns her head a little on Jack's shoulder - Jack's shoulder! - to see if she has disturbed him, but he still sleeps as peacefully as a babe. Her lips curve up into a lazy smile. One of her hands rests on his chest, and she can feel his heartbeat and his warmth through the thin material of his singlet. Raising her hand, she uses a careful knuckle to guide a curl back from his forehead.

She doesn't enjoy waking up with men because it usually means that she was too tired, or the weather too inclement, to send them on their way. It is uncomfortable, to say the least. But Jack feels like he belongs here. To her house, to her bed, to her. Perhaps it is because he has spent so much time here. Perhaps... her mind wanders away from that train of thought.

She nuzzles her nose against his bare skin and breathes him in. One of her legs is draped over his, but she doesn't move it for fear of waking him. And because she likes it there. Very, very much.

Jack stirs a little, and his face angles a little more her way. Oh, but he is lovely. Even relaxed, the line of his jaw is elegant and strong. She finds herself fascinated by his eyelashes for some reason.

His mouth is too much of a temptation for her to study closely. She always wants to kiss it, even glancing at it in conversation. To have it so close to her own, as if in offering! Pressing her lips - 'two blushing pilgrims, ready stand'! - to his would be like tasting the fruit in Eden: pleasure unlike any other, the knowledge of the gods, but with consequences that could not be undone.

How would it be if he were hers? If she could wake him by trailing sweet kisses down his chest and abdomen, taking him in her hand, tasting him, pleasuring him, listening to his moans? She desperately wants to hear Jack's voice, ragged and deep with passion, saying her name. She wants to see that beautiful mouth fall open in wordless bliss.

 _God knows I want to make love to you_ , he had said last night. It made her shiver then, and it makes her shiver now.

He stirs again, a small movement, and then his eyes blink open. She expects at least a moment's disorientation, but there is absolutely none. She knows that if he had his way, he would wake up with her every morning. She has never been so tempted to give Jack Robinson his way as she is right now.

"Good morning, Miss Fisher," he says, giving her his usual crooked smile, made all the more endearing by his sleep-softened face.

"It is a good morning, Jack, waking up in your arms."

"Hmmm," he rumbles. "Waking up _on_ my arm. Which is asleep." She grins and starts to move, but he places his hand on her back to stop her. "Stay. I didn't say I disliked it." They smile at each other, and Jack turns his face to the ceiling and closes his eyes. "How do you feel?" he asks.

"Better. Thank you for staying with me."

"I'm afraid I nodded off very fast. More tired than I thought."

"It was peaceful, though," she says honestly. "Just having you here, resting so quietly, drove all the demons away."

"Good. I couldn't bear seeing you so low." His hand at her back tightens briefly, and then he lets it fall. "I should go before the household starts bustling."

_Or you could stay. Stay and let me show you how good I want to make you feel._

"Did you hear what I said to you before you fell asleep last night?" she asks. "That I didn't want just a warm body?"

"No," he says, "I didn't hear." He turns to look at her again, silent for a little while. "What did you want?"

"My friend. My partner. The man I respect and trust more than any other."

His eyes search hers as if he is looking for something and not finding it. "I hope..." His throat bobs. "I hope never to fail you in those regards, Miss Fisher."

Before she can stop herself, Phryne closes the small space between them and kisses him. It is brief, only a taste of his bottom lip, a scrap stolen from the banquet table.

"You would never fail me, Jack. Not in any regard."

The moment between them is broken by a brisk knock on the bedroom door. "Are you ready for breakfast, Miss?"

"Just a minute, Dot!" Phryne calls cheerily. Then she whispers to Jack, "Let her see us fully clothed. Play along." She rises and goes to the door, smiling at Dot's surprised expression at the sight of Jack over her shoulder. "Dot, the Inspector fell ill last night, and I insisted that he stay and allow me to play nursemaid. Would you be so good as to tell Mr. Butler that we'll have a breakfast guest?"

"O-of course, Miss. Good morning, Inspector."

Jack clears his throat. "Miss Williams."

After Dot scurries away, Phryne closes the door and retrieves Jack's discarded clothes from the floor, draping them at his feet on the bed.

"Do you know," she says in her lightest, most airy voice as she shrugs on a kimono, "I rather enjoyed this little taste of domesticity. Were you not a married man, I might be in some real danger."

Jack looks up from buttoning his waistcoat. "Is that so, Miss Fisher?"

"Indeed."

"Be on your guard, then. Danger is never far behind you."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooookay, so I was rereading this yesterday, and I felt like I wanted to write an alternate version of chapter 2 because I was (and am) in a mighty smutty mood. So this is an AU of an AU. Just because I can. ;-)
> 
> The first part is exactly the same as chapter 2. If you're coming to this chapter after just reading that one, you might want to scroll down to the section break, which is where it diverges.

Phryne opens her eyes slowly, squinting until they adjust to the sunlight flooding her room. She turns her head a little on Jack's shoulder - Jack's shoulder! - to see if she has disturbed him, but he still sleeps as peacefully as a babe. Her lips curve up into a lazy smile. One of her hands rests on his chest, and she can feel his heartbeat and his warmth through the thin material of his singlet. Raising her hand, she uses a careful knuckle to guide a curl back from his forehead.

She doesn't enjoy waking up with men because it usually means that she was too tired, or the weather too inclement, to send them on their way. It is uncomfortable, to say the least. But Jack feels like he belongs here. To her house, to her bed, to her. Perhaps it is because he has spent so much time here. Perhaps... her mind wanders away from that train of thought.

She nuzzles her nose against his bare skin and breathes him in. One of her legs is draped over his, but she doesn't move it for fear of waking him. And because she likes it there. Very, very much.

Jack stirs a little, and his face angles a little more her way. Oh, but he is lovely. Even relaxed, the line of his jaw is elegant and strong. She finds herself fascinated by his eyelashes for some reason.

His mouth is too much of a temptation for her to study closely. She always wants to kiss it, even glancing at it in conversation. To have it so close to her own, as if in offering! Pressing her lips - 'two blushing pilgrims, ready stand'! - to his would be like tasting the fruit in Eden: pleasure unlike any other, the knowledge of the gods, but with consequences that could not be undone.

How would it be if he were hers? If she could wake him by trailing sweet kisses down his chest and abdomen, taking him in her hand, tasting him, pleasuring him, listening to his moans? She desperately wants to hear Jack's voice, ragged and deep with passion, saying her name. She wants to see that beautiful mouth fall open in wordless bliss.

 _God knows I want to make love to you_ , he had said last night. It made her shiver then, and it makes her shiver now.

He stirs again, a small movement, and then his eyes blink open. She expects at least a moment's disorientation, but there is absolutely none. She knows that if he had his way, he would wake up with her every morning. She has never been so tempted to give Jack Robinson his way as she is right now.

"Good morning, Miss Fisher," he says, giving her his usual crooked smile, made all the more endearing by his sleep-softened face.

"It is a good morning, Jack, waking up in your arms."

"Hmmm," he rumbles. "Waking up _on_ my arm. Which is asleep." She grins and starts to move, but he places his hand on her back to stop her. "Stay. I didn't say I disliked it." They smile at each other, and Jack turns his face to the ceiling and closes his eyes. "How do you feel?" he asks.

"Better. Thank you for staying with me."

"I'm afraid I nodded off very fast. More tired than I thought."

"It was peaceful, though," she says honestly. "Just having you here, resting so quietly, drove all the demons away."

"Good. I couldn't bear seeing you so low." His hand at her back tightens briefly, and then he lets it fall. "I should go before the household starts bustling."

_Or you could stay. Stay and let me show you how good I want to make you feel._

"Did you hear what I said to you before you fell asleep last night?" she asks. "That I didn't want just a warm body?"

"No," he says, "I didn't hear." He turns to look at her again, silent for a little while. "What did you want?"

"My friend. My partner. The man I respect and trust more than any other."

His eyes search hers as if he is looking for something and not finding it. "I hope..." His throat bobs. "I hope never to fail you in those regards, Miss Fisher."

Before she can stop herself, Phryne closes the small space between them and kisses him. It is brief, only a taste of his bottom lip, a scrap stolen from the banquet table.

"You would never fail me, Jack. Not in any regard."

* * *

 

Laying her head back on his shoulder, she hugs her arm over his chest and closes her eyes. In spite of his comment that he should go, he seems to be in no great hurry to do so. His hand, large and warm, finds its way to her back again, and her heart pounds when she feels his fingers tracing patterns on the soft fabric of her chemise.

"I failed my wife," he says. "I have business at the magistrate's soon."

"Jack," she breathes as everything within her seems to shift and lock into different places.

She reaches up to stroke his hair tenderly, thinking of the previous night: how she had been his sole focus, how she would never have guessed that anything was on his mind apart from comforting her, and all the while he was carrying his own pain in silence.

She thinks about how, in her grief, she had asked him to let her use him - a man soon to be divorced, a man who desired her and loved her and must have ached, even more than she knew, to be that "warm body" she wanted.

"Jack," she murmurs again into the heavy quiet. Suddenly, she feels calm. Certain. "Jack, what if I want you for more than one night?"

She turns her head and kisses his shoulder. When he doesn't move or speak, she kisses her way to his neck and up that column to his jaw. With her face above his now, she looks down into his eyes and slides her hand over his singlet to the waistband of his trousers. His throat moves as he swallows, and his lips part, but his eyes remain fixed on hers.

"I don't want you to comfort me," she says. "I want you to come for me. Will you do that, Jack?"

They watch each other, silent, for a long moment.

"Yes," he replies, and his voice is so rough with want that she wonders how it doesn't catch on the silk she wears.

Phryne unfastens his trousers and slips her hand inside to touch him. "I want to come for you, too," she tells him as she strokes him. "I'll come for you so many times, Jack."

Then he grounds out "Phryne" just the way she had wanted him to, and she presses her hips against his thigh, her breath almost as shallow as his. She gasps as he rolls and moves over her, and when her hand falls from his cock, he reaches for it, his fingers in a desperate tangle with hers, and puts it back. She drapes her free arm around his neck and holds him to her as he thrusts down into her hand.

"I looked at you when I woke up, and I wanted to do this," she says. "I wanted to wake you with my hands and my mouth. Next time, I will."

"Phryne..."

"Say that again and again," she begs. "Kiss me."

He does both, and they're too overcome for it to be anything but urgent and messy, and she relishes it.

He groans her name one more time and spills into her hand, his arms trembling as he struggles to hold himself up. When he sees Phryne cleaning her hand with her mouth, his head falls forward, and she hears him exhale, "Fuck."

She pulls him down to rest his weight on her, and she pets his hair with her fingers. Their chests heave against each other before settling into a rhythm of give and take. Jack becomes very still and very quiet.

Against his hair, her mouth pulls into a smile. "Is your arm awake now?"

His short laugh is warm on her skin. He pushes himself up, and Phryne glances aside to admire the flex of his muscles.

"What are we now, Phryne?" he asks, fingers tracing her neck. "What am I to you?"

She doesn't like that shadow of dread and self-doubt that darkens his features. She hears his question from earlier: _What did you want?_ She had replied, _My friend. My partner._

Now she says, "Everything."


End file.
